Archive for March 20, 2015


Posted: March 20, 2015 in Uncategorized





20 March 2015

“Dennis,” shouted Chuck, “do you notice anything different about me?”

“Yeah, Chuck, you have a new baseball cap. The one you were using yesterday was too floppy. It was difficult for people to drop change into it.”

“No, I don’t mean my hat! Look what I’m sitting on!

“You’re sitting on a walker, that must mean you brought your new vehicle downtown.”

“Yes, did you notice it parked beside the coffee shop?”

“No, I came from the other direction. I’ll look at it later.”

“I just hope that the battery kept its charge. The mechanic changed a few things that should make a difference. He moved a wire here, made an adjustment there. If its dead, when I try to start it, I’m going to ask at the church to see if I can plug into their electrical supply for an hour. I think they’ll let me. If not it’s back to the drawing board.

“Here’s a philosophical question for you. Before they invented the drawing board, what did people go back to? Think on that for a while.

“I don’t have much to do with the church, even though I was brought up Catholic. They’ve got too many rules, too many reasons for not allowing you to take mass, or be buried in hallowed ground.

“I think I told you that my father was a grave-digger. There was this fellow, Lonnie. I guess you’d call him the town drunk. One morning my dad walked to a grave he’d dug the day before, and lying at the bottom was Lonnie. He looked up and asked, “John, is that you? Where am I.”

“Lonnie would panhandle during the summer when it was warm and go to jail in the winter. Usually he’d do something like throw a brick through a store window. One time there were two cops standing near the store. He said to them, “I want to go to jail. Do I have to throw this brick, or not? ” They put him in jail.

“Lonnie was a good guy. Everybody was sad when he died, but the church wouldn’t bury him in hallowed ground. I don’t know what all the reasons were. They buried him outside the cemetery fence with a proper marker. My dad didn’t think that was right, so one night he dug him up and reburied him inside the fence. There was no grave marker. If one of his friends came and wanted to pay their respects, dad would say to them, “No, no, he’s not there. Come with me. I’ll show you where he’s buried.” He’d  take them to the unmarked grave.”

“I can’t keep up with all these religious rules. They’re always changing them.

“Well, Dennis, if the weather is decent I’ll see you next week.”

That was my cue to move on. “I’ll see you next week, Chuck.”